Lines of Succession
by Unmarked
Summary: Sibylla Cousland, Warden Commander, lost everything at Fort Drakon. Six years later, she struggles under the weight of her responsibilities as darkspawn reappear in droves and threaten to swallow Ferelden whole. F!Cousland/Anders, some Alistair
1. Prologue

**Authors Note: Bioware owns all and I am happy to play in the world they created. This is my second DA fic and I'm reeeeaaaally wary about my skills as an author so please review! Let me know what you like, what you don't, and how I might improve.**

**Prologue**

It wasn't supposed to end this way. Not fighting wildly against Zevran's arms that held her back as a would-be King sprinted to his death with grim determination and a raised sword.

"_It __**must**__ be a Grey Warden that strikes the final blow. The soul of the archdemon…it seeks sanctuary in the nearest tainted body. The force of it destroys both the dragon and the Warden." Riordan told them, his eyes laden with sorrow at the knowledge he shared, made worse because the two young Wardens hadn't known._ _"As the Senior Warden, it is my duty to perform."_

"_Destroys…? As in…"_

"_In death, sacrifice. Our creed."_

"_So one of us, for certain, will not see the end of this."_

"_Yes. I will do all that I can to see my duty fulfilled but if I do not succeed, it will fall to one of you. I could not send you into the fray without knowing the truth of why Grey Wardens are needed in this world."_

She thrashed and struggled, landing a well-placed blow against the Antivan's face with the sharp point of her elbow and, with a desperate sob, broke away from his faltering grasp. She ran for the other Warden, leaping over bodies of allies and darkspawn alike in her haste.

"_You love her."_

"_I…yes."_

"_I think I've always known that, in the very back of my mind. It's all right, you know. I'm not angry."_

"_Why do you wish to speak of this? Surely you know that our fair Warden sees no one but you. I am no threat."_

"_No, you're not a threat. What you are is…an ally."_

"_If you wish, yes. But to what end?"_

"_If the time comes…__**when**__ the time comes- you have to stop her."_

"_Stop her from what, my friend? I do not understand…"_

His eyes met hers as she drew closer and he smiled sadly, his sword poised above the beast's head.

"Alistair, no! Don't do this!"

"_Do you __**really**__ want me to do this?"_

_She didn't know what to say. Morrigan had never proven worthy of the trust it would take to allow such an act. She'd spoken of cheating death and all it would take was his willing body. His child. But to what end? She searched the farthest reaches of her heart and found that she could not ask him to pay such a price…not even at the cost of her own life. And it would be hers, if Riordan fell. She would find a way to ensure it._

"_No…I don't. I can't ask you to do this. She asks too much and…if it were something that __**I**__ could give her, I would. But not you."_

"_Oh, thank the Maker…"_

_She sank down onto the bed next to him and took his hand into hers, giving it a gentle squeeze as relief flooded her body…thank the Maker, indeed. She would gladly meet death if it spared him and an innocent child of whatever Morrigan stood to gain from her ritual. If it came to that._

"_Riordan will not fail. And come tomorrow, I will feel like a fool for indulging the idea in the first place."_

She was helpless to intervene as the sword cleaved through scaly flesh. It was too late. The runes were cast and the future was now certain.

In an explosion of light and force that sent her flying, she knew that he was gone.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"You'd best come inside, Commander. The Queen arrives soon and she'll want to speak with you straightaway."

"Show her to my quarters on her arrival, Varel. I will see her when I am damned good and ready and no sooner. You may tell her as much, if you wish."

Sibylla Cousland made no move to rise from her seat on the balcony and turned her gaze back to the letter she'd set in her lap.

"You might do well to receive her Majesty with a bit more grace, Commander. She is sovereign here and you do not want to jeopardize the Warden's place in Ferelden."

"Are you suggesting that I am without grace, Varel?"

"When it comes to Queen Anora…yes. You are utterly without grace."

"You do realize that she loathes me?"

"I suspect the feeling is mutual."

Sibylla smiled at that, finding herself in rare agreement with the man. After six years at Vigil's Keep, she could count the number of times they'd been of one mind on one hand. With fingers left over for future occurrences.

"Fetch me upon her arrival, then. I shan't embarrass you today. I do not, however, make any guarantees for her next visit."

"How is Teyrn Cousland?" Varel nodded at the letter that had been the focus of her attention before his arrival.

"Fergus is well. The Teyrna Marian will give birth soon, if she has not already. This letter is weeks old by now."

"And the children, Commander? They miss their mother more each day, no doubt."

"Yes…I...yes. Fergus reports that Duncan grows like a weed, eats like a mabari, and teases his sister mercilessly when he is not growing or eating."

"And Lady Eleanor?"

"She endures her brother with little reaction."

"We have not seen darkspawn here in many months now, Commander. Perhaps it is safe for their return?"

"Varel…I know you mean well but this is…it's no place for children." she replied quietly, struggling to dispel the memory of the last attack they'd encountered. A band of darkspawn had launched a direct assault on the Keep and it had been no small group…they'd lost two Grey Wardens in the battle and many more soldiers than that. As soon as the roads were deemed safe, Sibylla had sent the children to Highever with Anders and Oghren escorting the procession.

"Yes…you're right, of course. It just pains me to see Anders so despondent. He's lost his partners in crime, you see."

"It pains you to see _Anders_ despondent? And what of _my_ pain?" she cried in mock outrage, clutching her grieved heart at the implication.

"You don't complain nearly as much as he does."

* * *

The trumpeting fanfare in the distance signaled that her time was up. She folded the letter back up and nudged the purring feline in her lap, who raised his head to look at her with lazy, squinting eyes. She eyed him disdainfully and nudged again, more insistently this time.

"Off you go, Pounce. I'm sure Oghren has some item in need of a good spray."

The stubborn little furbag made a great show of yawning before he laid his head back down, having no intention of obeying. Heaving an exasperated sigh, Sibylla gave him an unceremonious shove that sent him to the ground below where he landed with the utmost grace, as always. She would never be able to understand the esteem that Anders held for cats…mabari war hounds, they were not. While they weren't lacking in intelligence, they certainly didn't possess the obedience or loyalty that she'd prized in Finnick. Brave, glorious Finnick who'd defended her children to his last breath against the lone darkspawn that found his way into the Keep six months ago. She'd mourned his loss, but it was a very small wound of the heart in comparison to…

No. She didn't dare let that name into her mind. Not now.

She jogged into the compound, winding her way through the narrow hallways until she came to the main hall, where the Queen, surrounded by her attendants, was lowering the hood of her cloak. Varel would be pleased…Sibylla normally made it a point to not greet Anora for her initial arrival. She dropped to a bow with the rest of the crowd and focused her gaze on the ground as she heard the footsteps heading in her direction.

"Rise, Arlessa Sibylla. We have much to discuss, you and I."

"Yes, your Majesty."

She rose to her feet in one fluid motion and met the unreadable gaze of Anora. The initial flicker of mutual loathing sparked between them, but passed quickly and unacknowledged. There was little reason to speak of it when each woman was well aware of the unchangeable nature of their relationship.

"Please, Majesty, join me in the study. Jessamyn will see to tea while we converse."

Anora bowed her head in acquiescence and gestured for Sibylla to lead the way. As they walked up the grand staircase, Anora's voice broke the moment of silence.

"The Teyrnship of Gwaren remains unassigned."

"I was aware of that, yes."

"Eamon suggests your name frequently."

"Eamon suggests many things, your Majesty."

Anora 's bell-like laughter echoed through the hall at that comment. The servants slowly released the collective breath they'd been holding, as it seemed this visit would pass in relative peace.

"That he does, Arlessa. He believes that you will not accept and hopes that I will offer it to him in your stead. He thinks me a great fool indeed."

"He's right. I wouldn't accept it. My place is here and I seek no station above it."

"Are you certain?" Anora inquired icily. "I seem to recall a great amount of ambition in your younger years."

The urge to blaspheme welled up in Sibylla's chest as the point of this talk reared its ugly head. She had no wish to remember the events of that day but still they stirred. It was hopeless to put any of it out of her mind with the company she found herself in.

"Consort is _not_ Queen, your Majesty. I sought nothing for myself."

"That you believe you speak the truth does not make me forget what passed between us, Arlessa. The tower that your _Alistair_ sent me to was not a _kind_ environment."

Sibylla blanched at the name, uttered with such contempt by Anora, and balled her hands into tight fists that she kept pressed firmly against her thighs. She would not rise to this challenge…she would not put her family in jeopardy by offending the Queen. Again.

"You will believe whatever you wish, as you always have, your Majesty. I don't seek to convince you of anything." she spat, nearly choking on the words. "Let us deal in the here and now."

"That would be wise, I think. I have come to discuss more than past slights."

Sibylla inclined her head as she opened the door to the study, waiting for Anora to enter before following. She walked stiffly over to the plain armchair that Nathaniel Howe usually occupied, leaving the grander, cushioned chair empty for Anora.

"I assume you have heard the reports of darkspawn activity in western Ferelden."

"Yes. We suffered an attack on the Keep as well, as I am sure your Majesty is aware."

"I had heard that. Strange, is it not? I was under the impression that darkspawn activity _declined_ after a blight."

"That is usually the way of things…or so the Orlesian Commander tells me. He is a veteran of renown in the Grey Wardens and much more knowledgeable than I in such matters."

"And what has been your response to these reports?"

"I've sent twelve of my Wardens to investigate and report back on their findings. There is little else we can do until the Orlesians arrive."

"I see. And when do you expect them?"

"Within the month, your Majesty. With their assistance, we will restore order."

"I have no doubt that Ferelden is in good hands, Arlessa. You've proven more than worthy in the past."

She let the compliment pass without acknowledgement…pretty words carried little meaning in this case.

"Nathaniel will bring a formal report to the palace once he has returned to brief me. I hope this is acceptable."

Sibylla sank back into her chair as Jessamyn interrupted with the tea, grateful for the break in conversation. Anora's visits were infrequent enough, but it seemed that she would only just recover before another one occurred.

"How are your children, Arlessa Sibylla? Bann Teagan tells me that you've sent them to Highever."

"Yes…with the darkspawn attack, I did not feel that they could continue to reside here. My work is not without dangers."

"I understand. It is rather _curious_ that Teagan knows so much about their circumstances…did you know that there are whispers at court that he is the father?"

"As always, your Majesty leaps right to the point." she commented in a clipped tone. The rumors had reached her and she did her best to let them continue without acknowledging them as true or false.

"He does nothing to dispel such rumors, either. Perhaps your silence on the matter will be unnecessary soon."

"Would it please you if that were true?" Sibylla asked, unable to keep the venom from her voice. Her children were not something she cared to discuss any further with Anora. Nor who their father was or was not.

"Immensely. It saddens me to see Rainsefere with no heir."

"And yet your Majesty remains unmarried with no heir to her throne."

"That's rather _impertinent_, Arlessa."

"I apologize. I only mean to point out that Bann Teagan still has time to remedy the situation…he's not dead, after all."

"I accept your apology." Anora stated through gritted teeth. "I require rooms for the evening. Please send a servant in to show me where I will be staying."

"Will your Majesty be with us for very long?"

"No…I will ride in to Amaranthine in the morning and trouble you no further."

"It is no trouble."

* * *

Steady, purposeful steps carried her away from the study as Jessamyn returned to assist Anora. Their meeting, thankfully, adjourned before the spiteful commentary could begin anew. It was a small improvement on their previous dealings. As she reached the spiral staircase leading to her quarters, she felt the tight reign of control slip off and could no longer carry herself under the weight of all the self-imposed repression. She sank down to her knees and laid her head on one of the stairs, unable to go any farther. The familiar hitch in her breath indicated that tears were on their way and she nearly wept right there because she could not find the strength to even _crawl_ to privacy.

"Oh, Sibyl…you look like a cat in heat with your arse up in the air like that."

"Not. Amusing." she muttered, her words muffled against the wooden stair that she'd pressed her face into. Of course _Anders_ would have to be the one to find her this way.

"Up we go, then."

He took hold of her arm and hauled her up and over his shoulder, carrying her the rest of the way up the stairs. She couldn't find it in her to care about how undignified this might look to the odd Keep resident.

"Why aren't you in the larder? Isn't there a new scullery maid running about?"

He chortled in amusement, jostling her slightly as they reached the hallway.

"I've already been and it was nothing to write home about, let me tell you. Left or right?"

"As if you don't know…you've only come knocking every night for the last three years."

"Four, actually." he corrected, sniffing indignantly at her error. "And today, the Maker smiles on me."

He pushed open the door to her quarters and made his way to the open door in the far corner, taking little care to keep her steady as they progressed to her bedroom. He took a little more care in setting her down on the bed and knelt down once she was safely deposited on the cool linens, tugging firmly to remove each of her boots.

"Anders, you don't have to do that."

"Are you sure? It looked to me like you couldn't even drag yourself upstairs, let alone take your boots off."

"I really wish you hadn't seen that..."

"The Queen's here, I take it."

"How'd you guess?"

"It doesn't take a genius to read the signs, Sibyl. Why do you let her do this to you every time she's here? You're the Warden _Commander_. You don't owe that frosty bitch any fealty."

"Oh, but I do…don't forget about the Arlessa bit."

"Someday you'll tell me how that came about, right?"

"No promises."

"Fine. I'll just ask _Oghren_, then. He's been with you forever, hasn't he? Stinky little dwarf's bound to know some secrets."

She flung herself backwards on the bed and drew in a deep breath as Anders rose to leave. She was well aware of his interest in every facet of her life- how could she not be when he pushed so directly? The question of how to handle him plagued her daily; even more so with Duncan and Ellie gone to Highever.

"I got a letter from Fergus today."

"Oh? And how are the twin terrors holding up in exile?"

"Don't say it like that…you know why they're there."

"I do…but what makes you think that they're any safer with Fergus? There's a whole keep full of Wardens here. They would be safer with us and you _know_ it."

"Anders, we're a magnet for trouble. What kind of mother would I be if I kept them here after what happened?"

_That_ shut him up.

"Please tell Varel that I'll be retiring for the rest of the day…I trust you to take care of anything that comes up in the meantime."

He gave her a quick nod before walking out, closing the door gently behind him.


	3. Chapter 2

**Authors Note: **Again, Bioware owns it. Except for the best line in Anders' arsenal…that's lifted directly from Plunkett and Macleane because Anders = Macleane…at least in my head.

Also? Reviews are awesome! Please let me know what's working, what sucks, etc.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

_Weeks passed into months. She watched time crawl by in silence, kept alive only by the stubborn efforts of Leliana. Left to her own devices, she would have faded away long ago. She did not move, eat, or even bathe without a steady push from her friend; a fact which elicited no small amount of resentment towards the bard. Couldn't she see that her help was not wanted? It was cruelty to keep her from passing through the Fade and she'd told Leliana as much when she could find the strength to speak at all._

_When the sickness came, she nearly wept with joy at the violence of her daily retching because it seemed the Maker might grant her release, after all. No body could vomit this much and live._

"_Sibyl."_

_No response._

"_**Sibylla**__."_

_Leliana knelt in front of her and took her hands gently, gazing up with wide, imploring eyes._

"_Fergus has sent for a physician. He thinks that you are…unwell." _

_Fergus? _

_She shook her head to clear the fog from her mind and remembered that Fergus was alive and had brought her to Highever some weeks (months?) ago. It pained her that she could not rejoice in the return of her brother but that was the way it had to be…what use was there in opening your heart when the people inside it were so easily snatched away? She'd loved her parents, loved Alistair…she'd even loved Ser Gilmore and old Nan from the larder in Highever. They were all gone now and had left her to carry the weight of their loss alone._

_The sound of a closing door brought her back from her reverie and she could not help but hear the voices in the hallway, snippets of conversation flowing in through cracks in the wood._

"_She isn't…he'll arrive soon-"_

"…_not ill, Fergus. You know-"_

"_I __**don't**__ know what's wrong!"_

_That had come through clear enough._

"_She hasn't bled….months now. I'm telling you, she's-"_

_Sibylla could not bite back the horrified hiccup of laughter that escaped as the implication of Leliana's words formed a concrete realization in her mind. She was overtaken by it now, laughing like a crazed lunatic as a rush of tears sprang forth from her eyes. She couldn't remember the last time she'd bled. How had she not seen it? Of course she was with child- and why not? She should have known it would happen as soon as Alistair told her that it couldn't. Was she herself not a tribute to feats of impossibility? She should have died many times over by now, and yet there she sat, perfectly alive and impossibly pregnant._

_The knowledge of it made the contents of her stomach rise up again and there was no comfort to be found in heaving them out now. She wouldn't die from this and the realization of that fact only brought on a fresh round of hysteria._

Sibylla awoke to incessant, jabbering mewls as Ser Pounce crouched in her windowsill, his tail whipping back and forth while he tracked his winged prey across the yard.

"They don't believe you, you know. You don't sound anything like a bird."

She drew the covers back and swung her legs over the side of the bed, hauling herself up until she was sitting on the edge. She was not eager to start the day and could not ignore the echoing _silence_ in her quarters that reminded her how lonely these past few months had been. She missed the noises, scrapes, and stomps that normally started each day. The ambient noise of Duncan and Ellie had been a great comfort and she felt the loss of it keenly.

She trudged over to the small writing desk and unfolded Fergus's letter again as she settled into her chair, hoping that the news of her children would assuage the empty place in her heart…at least for now.

_**Sibyl-**_

_**I cannot begin to convey what a joy it has been to have my niece and nephew these past four months. They have been a source of great happiness for us all and put me in mind of the Highever of old, where you and I ruled the roost and terrorized poor Nan to the point of insanity. Marian is only too eager now to add this new member to their band of merry mischief-makers and counts the days until he or she makes his or her arrival, as do I.**_

_**I hope this letter finds you well. The children miss you a great deal and despite their sunny demeanors during the day, the nights are still quite difficult for them. Ellie cries for you nearly every night and Duncan, brave little soul that he is, keeps a vigil at her bedside. He says that the monsters will come again and since they don't have Finnick, he will keep them out himself because that's what a Grey Warden would do. I tried to explain to him that dogs could not be Grey Wardens, but he would have none of it.**_

_**I hope time permits you to visit us soon, sister. We all miss you and pray that the Maker keeps you safe during these increasingly turbulent times.**_

_**Fondly,**_

_**Fergus**_

_**P.S. Please inform a certain mage that I've found him out and his days are numbered. No need to get into the specifics…just be kind enough to pass it along.**_

_**

* * *

**_

The dining hall reverberated with boisterous talk and laughter as Sibylla entered to join the other Wardens for dinner. The hall was packed from end to end with Wardens of all sizes, races, and genders with one thing in common: they _all_ shoveled food into their mouths with reckless abandon, as if their appetites would never be sated. Oghren and Anders were easy enough to spot in the bunch. They were, as always, the loudest in the room and surrounded by a harem of women, Wardens and servants alike.

"Don't let him fool you! All you have to do is unsheathe your sword and say the word "Tower" and ol' Sparklefingers here pisses his manskirt like a _girl_!" Oghren exclaimed, as his side of the table was severely lacking in female company.

"I think the ladies _appreciate_ a man in touch with his feminine side! Am I right?"

His question was met with a chorus of agreement and nodding heads.

"And the uh, _manskirt_ serves its purpose _very_ well. Quick and easy access, my friend." He raised his eyebrows suggestively and continued. "_Perfect_ for those torrid trysts in pantries and hallways."

Several faces were flushing around him, either imagining just the thing or reliving past pantry glories and hoping for more as Sibylla slipped in behind them, taking great care not to alert Anders to her presence just yet. She shook her head at Oghren as he spotted her and gave him a knowing smile, noting the wicked gleam in his eyes as his lips curved into a victorious smirk. Or so she thought. It was hard to tell with the beard.

"You blowhard…actin' like you had every piece of tail in this joint."

"Near enough, short-stuff."

"Even that old Jess who makes the _tea_?"

"And why _not_? Those older women know how to do things that would make _you_ blush!"

"Even the _Commander_?" Oghren baited, nearly shaking from the effort it took to contain the guffaw of laughter he longed to let out because he was _so_ close to victory.

Anders sank back into his chair with a reverent sigh, threading his hands together as he contemplated his answer.

"Give me time. They _all_ succumb to the manskirt, in the end. Maybe you should look into getting one, 'eh? Might improve your tally enough to be _respectable_."

"And if _you_ deviated from mage robes once in a while, perhaps your efforts would be successful. I prefer a man in _armor_." Sibylla piped up from behind him, leaning against the wall casually as the group's attention shifted to her.

The sound of Oghren's laughter was near-deafening, but not half so much as the sound of his fists pounding on the table. And were those _tears_ glistening in the grizzly hair of his beard?

Very slowly, Anders turned around to face her, wearing his most insolent smirk. He would not be so easily defeated.

"Well _played_, Commander. Now- is there a particular kind of armor you fancy or will any old thing suffice?"

"Anders, if you _really_ want to play dress up, Warden Karin has several lacy pieces that would suit your coloring nicely."

"I _know_. I like the green one, myself…it really plays up the gold flecks in my eyes."

She almost laughed but an unbidden memory stirred from the depths of her mind and drew the humor out of the situation as effectively as a templar drawing mana from a mage.

"_Just so you know, if the King commands me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line. Darkspawn or no."_

"_I think I might like to see that…"_

"_For you? __**Maybe**__…but it has to be a __**pretty**__ dress."_

Actually, it was _exactly_ like a templar drawing mana from a mage.

"-ain't that so, Commander?"

"Sorry?"

"Where'd you go off to? You missed the best part!"

"Just a trip down memory lane…I'm back now." She straightened up, absently smoothing the wrinkles on the thighs of her breeches. "Anders, when you're done with your many _obligations_, please see me in the study. I'll be the one behind the desk, with field reports and actual _work_ in front of me."

* * *

"_I'd be lookin' up different skirts if I were you, Sparklefingers."_

"_Been here for a year now and you __**still**__ haven't figured out that I like a challenge? They don't come along often, you know. Not ones that look like __**that**__."_

"_That right there is a mountain you ain't ever gonna climb. Commander's in love with a dead man."_

"_I hope you're speaking figuratively."_

"_Nope. He's dead, alright."_

"_So…"_

"_So __**what**__?"_

"_Who was he? What happened?"_

"_Uh-uh. You want to know, you ask __**her**__. I already told you too much and she'll cut me up for dog kibble if she finds out I've been flappin' my gums."_

"_You really think she'll tell me?"_

"_Heh- __**sure**__. And maybe after that happens, winged nugs will fly outta my ass."_

Strictly speaking, it wasn't just about looks. Not after the first year or two, anyway. Commander Sibylla – _Sibyl_- was a woman of great beauty and a man would have to be blind not to notice. With hair the color of a raven's wing cascading down her back when she wore it loose (which was _never_), porcelain skin, bright, sparkling blue eyes (sparkling? He really needed to spend a little _less_ time with the dwarf…) and deliciously plump, pouty lips…yes, she was gorgeous. It was only natural to take a keen interest.

It wasn't until he found the flaws that Anders really started to worry. Her jawline was a little too angular, eyebrows just a tad too thick and her ears…they stuck out awkwardly when she wore her hair up in that severe bun (which was _always_). She almost never wore the elaborate, form fitting dresses of a noble woman and kept her body hidden beneath light leather armor when she was not wearing plate armor in the field. When she wasn't in armor, she wore riding breeches and a plain shirt. Nothing sensual and womanly about _that_.

Yes, the flaws were a definite problem; it meant he'd been paying attention long enough to _find_ them.

Worse than that, they did nothing to detract from her beauty. He'd once turned down a _very_ willing bar wench because of an oddly placed and very prominent mole on her face. It wouldn't have been possible to tear his eyes away from it during the _act_ and Anders, essentially being a shallow creature, was all about the pleasures and not the…_distractions_. Pretty girls, decent food, lightning at fools…it didn't get much deeper than that.

The first thing he loved about her was Duncan and Ellie. He could do no wrong in their eyes and they were _always_ up for the juvenile antics and pranks that he loved to indulge in as they toddled about the Keep. The word _minions_ sprang to mind, and again…shallow. Who didn't like to be the cock of the walk?

The second thing was her laugh. On an evening not so long ago, after_ years_ of relentless advances, she'd finally had enough. She set her tankard down, looked him dead in the eyes and said:

"_Alright, then. Let's have it. And give it your best shot, because I'm only going to offer this once."_

He wasted no time in dropping to one knee in front of her. He reached up to cup her face, thumb sweeping lazily across her soft skin, and gazed into her eyes with such unblinking intensity that his eyes nearly watered over.

She looked…_bored._

Hm. Time for the _coup de grace_, as the Orlesians would say.

"_Oh, my angel…my siren's song! You've ambushed me in the forests of your hair…drowned me in the pools of your eyes…shackled me to the poetry of your lips…-"_

For a moment there, he was convinced that it had worked. Her eyes lit up and she reached over to cup _his_ face. Her lips spread into a smile and then…she _laughed_. He dropped his arm back down to his side and sighed dejectedly, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling as he waited for her to recover.

"_Good. Now that __**that's **__over with…can we be friends and forget this nonsense?"_

"_Of __**course**__ we can be friends. I'm not giving up, though…it's not in my nature."_

"_If that was the best line in your arsenal, I think I'm safe."_

Some weeks later, at a tavern in Amaranthine, he met a _gorgeous_ merchant's daughter named Pippa. She even looked a little like Sibyl, if you squinted just enough. Dark hair, bright eyes…and the things that woman could do with her _lips_…wow. That was a good three months' worth of distraction from his Commander. He was almost certain that it was love in those first few months but it wasn't long before he started seeing a different face on the body below him, heard a different voice crying out her pleasure…felt much fuller lips doing _things_ beneath his robes. Pip hadn't taken too kindly to his suggested game of Commander/Subordinate and that, as they say, was that.

And now he was being summoned to the study. Enamored man that he was, he followed almost immediately despite the pouts of protest from the company of women surrounding him.

"Don't despair, ladies. I'll be back soon enough…and when I do, you-" he eyed a pretty maid with red hair "and possibly you-" and shifted his gaze to a Warden mage named Neria that he knew from the Tower, years ago "-will be in trouble."


	4. Chapter 3

**Authors Note: Bioware owns it. I play. Happy times.**

**Chapter 3**

_Honnleath- 27 dead. Decaying flora abounds – evidence of darkspawn involvement. Unable to produce darkspawn corpses as civilians of Honnleath have burned the bodies. Civilian reports indicate a small group attacked the village and were dispatched by local militia._

Sibylla frowned at the stack of similar reports she'd piled in front of her. She'd suspected that there would always be pockets of activity while the bulk of the horde dug for their new god but this was…troubling. Anora was right; darkspawn activity should be declining, not the other way around. There were still a great many things that Sibylla lacked experience in when it came to the Wardens, but this felt too much like the events after Ostagar. Too much like the beginning of a blight. And _that_, she had some experience in.

"You wanted me?"

"That was fast. Are you quite sure you didn't leave some poor lady wanting in the wake of your abrupt departure?"

"No…they can wait." Anders replied dismissively before reclining back into the chair across from her and propping his feet up on the edge of her massive desk. "So?"

"Things are getting worse."

"_I'll_ say! No minions, too much time with the dwarf, and Ser Pounce-a-lot avoids me like I have the taint since I took his friends away to Highever…"

"Anders, you _do_ have the taint."

"Never bothered him before."

"Cats _are_ fickle creatures. Just another trait you share, I suppose." Sibylla replied with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulders.

"Oh, ha bloody ha…you're _hilarious_."

"I do my best. _Anyway_-" she gestured to her ever growing stack of reports that the Wardens in the field had been sending back. "Honnleath, Redcliffe Village, and all throughout the Bannorn. Darkspawn are popping up like wildfire when they should be staying underground."

"That's…not good, is it?"

"No, it _really_ isn't. Commander Thierry will be arriving at month's end with a small contingent of Wardens from Orlais to assist us. We'll have to go to the Deep Roads."

"It's not a…a _blight_, is it?"

"I don't know- the dreams are awful as ever, but I haven't seen an archdemon. Nor has anyone else, as far as I know." she replied quietly, reaching up to rub at the throbbing ache in her temple. "It's just all too…I don't know. Familiar?"

"That's right…I've forgotten that I'm sitting with the blight-ending Hero of Ferelden."

She grimaced at the moniker and felt a bitter surge of hatred well up for the woman who'd spun that falsehood. Officially, Sibylla was the hero. Anora had seen to that.

"_Ferelden needs a hero they can touch, Lady Cousland. A hero they can __**see**__. A dead man means nothing to them."_

"_He means something to __**me**__! He died to save us. __**All**__ of us. Even you."_

"_He died to save _**you**_. And a good thing he did, too. You've grown large with what I assume is his child. A child that would not exist, had you perished."_

"_You can't just bury him, Anora. He was King. The nobles know this…__**I**__ know this."_

"_And now he is dead. Ferelden is in such chaos that no one will remember the brief time of his rule, such as it was. As for the nobles…I've been keeping them silent for years. The question at hand is what will it take for your silence? What will it take for you to do what Ferelden requires?"_

"_There is __**nothing**__ you can offer me…I'll not be your puppet."_

"_I don't need a puppet, Lady Cousland. I need a hero. And __**you**__ need to remember who is Queen. I could make life very difficult for you and your family, if I wished to. I could expel the Wardens from this country."_

_Anora sat forward and laid her hand upon Sibylla's before continuing in a low, clear voice._

"_Do not mistake the intent of my offer. I would love nothing more than to see you hang for what you've done to me. You __**murdered**__ my father…you would have murdered me, or very near to it…but Ferelden gains nothing from your death. As ruler, I must put vengeance aside and do what is best for this nation. As do you. You will bear the glory and be what I command. You will accept the title of Arlessa of Amaranthine and serve the crown, as well as the Wardens."_

_Anora paused to meet Sibylla's gaze directly, meeting the venomous hatred she found in the other woman's eyes with cold contempt._

"_Above all, the child in your belly is a __**Cousland**__. It belongs to you and you only. There is __**no**__ Theirin heir. If I hear but a whisper otherwise…I will do what I must to secure my throne. For the good of Ferelden."_

"_If you come after this child, I will kill you." Sibylla replied, her voice straining as she fought to keep her hand from lashing out against the Queen._

"_There won't be a need. Do as I command and you will find me a receptive ally. I give you my oath that I will not interfere with you and yours and I will assist the Wardens with whatever means available. All you have to do is leave this Maker forsaken room, be what you must, and guard your secrets well. I will do the same."_

It was of little comfort that her companions during the blight and her fellow Grey Warden commanders knew the truth. Not when she had to endure a title that didn't belong to her.

"I wish others could forget that as easily as you do."

"If you let your guard down enough for them to _know_ you, I suspect they might. I forget all the time."

"I don't even know why I let my guard down with _you_."

"Because _I_, my dear lady, am lovable, charming and most importantly, persistent. You don't escape the Tower seven times out of complacency, I can tell you that."

"Right…silly me for forgetting." She replied with a laugh, reaching over to nudge his feet off the desk. "Alright then, ser _Persistence_…I've asked to see you for two reasons. The first was…that. The second…I wondered if you might want to accompany me to Highever. I want to see Duncan and Ellie before…before I can't. I miss them horribly and I _know_ they miss you. They think you're _marvelous_, for some reason."

"I've always thought that those two were fine judges of character. They _do_ hate Arl Eamon…or perhaps they take their cues from you."

"If that's true, I must be head over heels for Teagan..." Sibylla postulated, weighing the idea with a considering _hmmm_.

"Or maybe they're just smart. Like I said."

She laughed at the look of clear distaste that had quickly replaced his previous jovial smile.

"So you'll go?"

"I _suppose_ I might be able to extricate myself from previous engagements…when do we leave?"

* * *

"Anders?"

"Hm?"

"Why am I here?"

"I should have thought that was _obvious_."

"Oh? Tell me then, ser _Floppy_…am I doing something wrong?" Neria asked pointedly from between his thighs, gazing up at him with an expression that straddled the line between amusement and annoyance.

ser _Floppy_? What did she- oh. _Oh._

Anders picked his head up from the bed and looked down the length of his body to find that, sure enough, the languid, teasing strokes of her tongue had gone unrewarded.

"Huh."

"Shall we continue when you're less distracted?"

"And waste a perfectly lovely evening? I am leaving tomorrow, you know." he reminded her, reaching to pull her back up and into his arms.

"What'd you have in mind, then? A poetry reading?"

He rolled them over, reversing their positions, and pinned her between his arms. The elven mage smirked up at him and tilted her head to nip at his forearm as he delved down to run the tip of his tongue along the peak of her pointed ear.

"I think we can come up with something better than _that_…" he purred, tracing the line of her jaw before trailing his fingers further down, leaving small currents of blue lightning to tingle across her skin in their wake.

* * *

The next morning found Sibylla in better spirits than she'd experienced in quite some time, despite unsettling dreams of that were returning with a force she hadn't felt in a long time. She wasted no time in getting ready, donning her favored worn leather armor. Such was her hurry that she left her spill of dark hair loose, falling in waves well past her shoulders. She snatched up the dark green riding cloak that had been flung haphazardly on the small couch in the common area of her quarters before barreling down the staircase to find Sigrun and pass the torch of command during her absence. It'd been a toss-up between Sigrun and Oghren but judging from Oghren's rousing chorus of "Ode to Nug Humpers" in the courtyard just hours ago that had woken even _her_, he was _probably_ not sober enough to absorb any directives. His loss.

In her haste, she nearly trampled over the bleary-eyed form of Warden Neria, who was quietly exiting Anders' room. If Sibylla felt any stab of emotion at the sight, it was quickly snuffed out. _That_ was a road that did not need to be travelled. Anders had been tomcatting his way through the Keep _and _Amaranthine for years, which was…fine. Normal, even.

"Commander." Neria offered a quick nod of deferment before continuing on with a poorly stifled yawn. _Someone_ hadn't gotten much sleep last night. Sibylla reached over and rapped her fist against the closed door, chuckling at the answering rustle of bedcovers and _thud_ of something (someone?) hitting the floor. The door opened, revealing a not-so-perfectly coiffed and so-not-in-his-robes Anders, clutching a sheet in front of him that left little to the imagination. Her eyes widened as she absorbed this new knowledge of a body that she'd never seen out of mage robes. While he didn't possess the imposing, muscular stature of a warrior, there were definitely…_worse_ sights to behold. It wasn't quite what she'd expected, either; Sibylla had always thought mages to be somewhat soft. Squishy, even. Anders was all lanky, coiled grace; firm and toned, without being too defined. No doubt due to years of running, either from the Templars or from attackers that got too close while he hung back from the fray to cast. The phrase _built for speed_ came to mind and she very nearly blushed as her mind flashed to an image of what _that_ might look like.

"Do you always answer your door this way?"

"S'pose you might know if you ever bothered to come by, wouldn't you?" he replied with a yawn, drawing the sheet around his waist and knotting it before offering her a sleepy smile. Much to her chagrin, he was quite…_adorable_ in the morning, with his half-opened eyes and shaggy, bed-mussed blond hair.

"I'm just…going to find Sigrun. She'll be in charge while we're away. Would you mind securing the horses after you-"she gestured towards him, meaning to indicate his state of undress. "-you know."

"As my lady commands."

* * *

They reached Highever in the dead of night, after three days of travel. Ser Gale, a young Knight in Fergus' employ, ushered them through the gate and rushed to greet them as they dismounted.

"My Lady, it is good to see your face among us again! Shall I have the Teyrna informed of your arrival?"

"At this hour? No, Ser Gale…I know my way well enough. There will be time for formal announcements in the morning, I think."

Sibylla patted his shoulder with a smile as he took the reins and led the horses away to the stables. She turned to Anders, who was furiously rubbing at his eyes and looking like he might feel just fine about crawling to a secluded corner near the gate to fall asleep.

"Maker's breath Anders, how did you _ever_ outrun templars when you can barely sit on a _horse_ for a few days?"

"Well that was _different_, wasn't it? I was on foot and _evading_. You don't have to pay attention to much on a horse and it's so…boring."

She linked her arm through his with a laugh and led him down the stone walkways of the estate, all but rushing up the incline that led to the bedchambers once they'd reached it.

"Such a _graceful_ creature you are." Anders remarked as he nearly lost his footing when she all but skidded to a stop.

"When the situation calls for it!" she countered with a laugh, slipping her arm loose from his. She took a few hesitant steps inside, eyes darting from door to door as she tried to figure out just which one her children might be in.

"They're just through there…or they were the last time I was here." He gestured to the left with a painfully drawn out yawn before slinking down the hallway to find an empty bed to collapse in.

She nodded and gave him a small smile before opening the door to what had been her bedchamber growing up. On the bed were the two small forms that she'd rushed to see, little else on her mind these past three days. Ellie was curled up beneath the blankets in the center of the bed, her hair splayed against her pillow as she slept. Duncan was unceremoniously sprawled next to her, legs hanging off the bed, suggesting that he'd all but fallen into place and gone to sleep immediately upon making contact with the mattress. A rush of warm affection flooded her at the sight.

Sibylla laid her cloak and sword on the chest at the foot of the bed before walking over to Duncan. She carefully set about righting his position and smoothed a lock of hair away from his eyes after drawing the blanket over him. Her son favored her greatly in appearance, with his dark hair, pale skin, and eyes of clear, shining blue when they were open. Hints of his father were there too…his nose, the shape of his eyes, and the way his brows knitted together in his sleep, as if he couldn't quite make out the fuzzy images in the Fade. Duncan's resemblance to her was merely physical, though…his jovial demeanor was _entirely_ Alistair, with an added dose of Anders' influence over the years.

Where Duncan resembled Sibylla, Eleanor was a near perfect, feminized replica of her father. She had the same golden hair, the same tawny eyes, and skin that glowed golden in the sun. The only features that Sibylla could claim were the plush lips that were just a hint too large for such a small face and the pointed widow's peak of her hair. Even in slumber, Ellie managed to exude a dreamy, ephemeral quality that was entirely her own…free from her brother's adventurous influence, she would happily spend her days outside, communing with the birds and butterflies whilst humming any number of strange little tunes and apologizing to the rose bushes for stealing their blooms.

Sibylla took great care to tread lightly as she walked around to the other side of the bed, perching on the edge to remove her boots before scooting backwards to settle in next to Ellie. She took one last look, as if to make sure they were really there, and closed her eyes.


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer**: Bioware owns it.

**Chapter 4**

Sibylla woke to an empty room, the first of many indicators that she'd slept too long. The surrounding area of bedchambers was lacking the hustle and bustle of early morning and the distinct giggling and running of the two child inhabitants. She lay there in the quiet of midmorning as errant rays of sunshine played against the walls, lost in the memories of Highever Castle, where so much had gone so wrong…it was astounding how one night of betrayal and bloodshed could so thoroughly taint a place that had always been a haven. Receiving the arling of Amaranthine had been a blessing in disguise; she could never have returned to reside permanently in Highever. She could still cross the threshold of her childhood home without giving in to the urge to recoil and flee, but it was like walking over a grave. The presence of ghosts was all around, and they existed to no one but her.

Her parents, Oren, Oriana…Dairren, Lady Landra…she hadn't seen Nan's death or Ser Gilmore's, but that did little to dissuade her from the certainty that no other survived that night. It was up to Fergus to rebuild and ensure that happy memories soaked into the stones themselves, as they had before. Fergus was responsible for so much…after all that he had lost, and he still managed to be her anchor in the world. Were it not her brother, she would have drifted further to sea and given up all hope of ever seeing the shore again. Maker knew it had been close to that…too close. The fog of that distant sea still held its allure, but she had secure ties to this life that she would not- _could_ not leave willingly yet, no matter who called to her in the distance.

And call he did, nearly every night. After six years, she still could not shake the feeling that he was just out of reach, waiting for her to find him. Sometimes she dreamed of him, warm and _alive_, beckoning her with merry eyes and an easy smile and she would melt into his arms, certain that there was no home but there with him. Those dreams, however, were not as frequent as the others…it was more common to find tainted corruption wearing his greying, stained skin, peering out at her from blood red eyes that held no recognition for her beyond _enemy_.

It was a cold comfort to know that such a fate could not befall him…Alistair would never succumb to the corruption that the Grey Wardens faced if they lived long enough. He'd met his end well before the taint could take him. She prayed for the same fate- the thought of going into the Deep Roads to disappear or _worse_ terrified her. Her death, whenever it came, should be in battle and more importantly, _above_ ground. The imminent plans to return to that Maker forsaken place were unnerving enough, but at least she had designs to _return_ from the excursion.

When her disorganized thoughts turned to the Wardens who would be entering the Deep Roads for the first time, she felt a stab of sympathy for their plight…nothing would prepare them for the dismal reality of the true darkspawn threat or the manner of creatures they would find lurking below the earth. When _she'd_ discovered a broodmother, she nearly came undone and after a fierce struggle that ended with her sword cleaving the head from a grossly distorted, distended and tainted body, she made Alistair _swear_ that he wouldn't let the darkspawn take her alive, or the first face she ate would be _his_.

She made a mental note to require the same oath from Anders and Nathaniel regarding _any_ woman in their party before embarking on the dreaded mission.

On that cheerful note, she rolled out of bed, determined to enjoy what little time she had left.

Laying on top of her cloak and sword on the chest, she discovered dress of deep green. While Sibylla was grateful for her sister-in-law's loaned clothing as she'd naught but her armor with her, she cursed her brother, knowing that he'd had a hand in this. He _knew_ how she felt about dresses and would no doubt get his jollies from her awkwardness while wearing one. Some things would never change.

She changed into it with a surly expression, adding her boots to the ensemble as her one act of rebellion. She made quick work of braiding her dark hair and left the room, nearly tripping over her skirt as she sprinted to the dining hall, hoping it was not so late that she'd missed the morning meal. She crossed the threshold breathlessly, eyes flicking from person to person until she found the beaming faces that had spotted her too.

"_Mum_!"

They were on her in a flash, each grabbing a leg and the force of their impact brought the reunion tumbling down to the floor, complete with giggles and laughter. She reached out and pulled them both close, placing a hurried kiss on each head.

"You're both getting so big! What _has_ your Uncle Fergus been feeding you?"

"Mabari tails and dragon eggs!" Duncan reported excitedly, looking to his Uncle who nodded and pointed towards the buffet of food.

"Even the Warden Commander needs a bit of mabari tail in her diet…it's hard enough to be the scourge of darkspawn in a _frock_."

She deftly maneuvered her way into a standing position, guiding the twins back to their seats and taking one between them before shifting her attention to her brother, who was positively _beaming_.

"I see we're not abandoning traditions at Highever….I feel like a girl of twelve again, the way you tease me." She retorted as Ellie burrowed her way underneath Sibylla's arm and into an embrace. "And miss Eleanor? Does your brother pick on you mercilessly as well?"

"Duncan is _always_ mean to me, Mummy…" Ellie admitted sadly, peering up at her mother with wide, imploring eyes. "Can't you make him stop?"

"Dearest, if there was a way to make brothers nice, I would have found it by now, I promise. But I'll tell you a secret that might help." She leaned down, cupping a hand beside her lips as they whispered next to Ellie's ear. "_You can do it right back!_"

She was rewarded with a conspiratory giggle before Ellie, seemingly satisfied with the wisdom, wriggled out of her mother's embrace and went back to pushing her food around on her plate.

"I trust your journey was without complication?" asked Fergus' wife, Marian, as she absently rubbed her bulging belly.

"It was, though I'm sure Anders will tell you differently." She surreptitiously glanced around the room, hoping to smile innocently as he sputtered indignation but…he wasn't there. "Has he come down yet?"

"_Hours_ ago…I think he went to see- oh! Sibyl! I can't _believe_ I forgot to tell you this!" Fergus exclaimed, palming his face in exasperation. "Leliana has taken a post here as a lay sister…she's been here for months."

"I _wondered_ why my post to Denerim kept getting returned! You lucky bas- I mean…you lucky soul." She said, making a face at her near slip in language. She'd been away from the children for too long, it seemed. "Good company _and_ good music!"

"You almost said a bad wo-ord…" Duncan announced in a sing-song voice, wagging a finger at his mother.

"I _did_…can you ever forgive me, my little moral compass?" she asked with a laugh, leaning down to rest her cheek against his dark hair.

"I'm gonna tell Anders!" he threatened, squirming away from her to gauge her reaction, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

"Anders is a prat." Ellie offered noncommittally, not bothering to look up from her plate.

"Eleanor…that is _not_ a very nice thing to say." Fergus warned, as Sibylla's jaw was hanging open far too wide to discipline the comment.

"But he _is_, Uncle! The Templar told me so…"

"Dearest…" Sibylla began, unsure how to explain the relationship between Anders and Templars to a five year old. "Templars are not…overly fond of Anders."

"'Cause he's a prat."

"Let's just dispense with that word entirely, shall we? Besides, you _love_ Anders! He's the same as he's always been, Ellie and he _adores_ you. Both of you. The Templars have their reasons for not liking him overmuch, but don't give that a second thought."

"Okay…" Ellie whispered, sensing a fair amount of trouble coming her way if she continued.

"Sibby, there's something else you should probably know, before I _forget_." Fergus smoothly moved the conversation in another direction.

"What's that?"

"Bann Teagan arrives this evening…we have plans to hunt tomorrow."

"Oh." That was certainly…unexpected. This was turning into a larger reunion than she'd anticipated. "It's alright, Fergus. I know he's your friend and it won't be…awkward. I appreciate the warning."

"Are you certain?"

"Of course. Teagan has always been a perfect gentleman and a good friend to us _both_. If anyone is going to kick up a fuss, it won't be _me_." She assumed Fergus understood that she was referring to Anders, who would _not_ be pleased at this development.

"Good. Though it is a wonder, why _he_ would be upset about-"

"It is, at that." She cut him off, widening her eyes in warning and tilting her head towards Duncan as if to say _Not in front of them, dunce._

"Well…_I'm_ going to see to the horses. Anyone care to join me?"

Fergus stood to a chorus of _Me me me _and_ Oooh oh me_ and led his excited companions out, Marian all but waddling after them. Sibylla rose after their departure, palming a piece of bread before heading towards the small chapel to find her wayward friend and scold her for not sharing the news of her new post. She smiled and nodded greetings to the servants bustling about…once upon a time, she'd known the name of every servant, knight, and vassal that resided in the Castle and she felt woefully inadequate for knowing so few of them well enough to show them the courtesy of using their _name_.

The chapel was sparsely occupied with Leliana nowhere to be found inside. Sibylla approached an elderly chantry sister whose name she did not know.

"I apologize for bothering you, sister but…have you seen Leliana this morning?"

"She _was_ here but moments ago…left in the company of a mage, though I doubt the information will help you find her. He was certainly the rascally sort…" the chantry sister shook her head, bringing her focus back to the original question. "Perhaps the library? Leliana spends a fair amount of time there when she is not here or with the Teyrn's wards."

"Ah! Thank you…I'm sure I'll find her there."

As she approached the library, the lyrical laughter of Leliana echoed from the open door just ahead. She sped up, ducking inside and behind a bookshelf, hoping to surprise her friend. As Sibylla crept to the edge of the shelf, she caught a snippet of the conversation and tensed up like a riled cat.

"It's not as if I'm not _trying_…maybe if I was Bann sodding Teagan I could get her attention."

"It couldn't hurt…Teagan _is_ handsome..." the teasing wistfulness of Leliana's voice would have elicited a laugh from Sibylla if the bard wasn't currently sticking her nose where it didn't belong _again_. Leliana had the most annoying habit of prodding dead issues.

"_Do you really think Alistair would want you to be alone?"_

_Sibylla had no need to respond verbally…she simply had to give Leliana the "look"._

"_My apologies…that was a rather silly question. I'm sure he would want you in the Chantry with me, jealous man."_

"_Why can't you just leave it alone, Leli?"_

"_Because you deserve to be __**happy**__, Sibyl. It is rare enough to find love once in a lifetime, especially with the life __**you**__ lead. Has Teagan not proven that he cares for you? Do you not know that it was __**his**__idea to claim them?"_

"_And I can't let him do that. You __**know**__ why. I know he means well and Maker knows that it would be easier to present than the truth, but suggesting that I should just…leap into that because of good intentions-"_

"_Not just for that, no. He's a noble and handsome man who has never wavered in his admiration for you. What is so __**wrong**__ with that? Could you not…try?"_

"_Oh, I tried…once."_

"_You __**jezebel**__! You never told me that!"_

"_Because it didn't __**work**__. The morning after, he told me he loved me. __**Loved me**__. Do you have any idea how awful I felt, knowing that I could never return that?"_

"…_was it at least worth doing?" Leliana couldn't hide her disappointment in Sibylla's stubborn refusal of such a worthy man, but her baser nature couldn't help asking the question._

"_He was very…attentive."_

"_Attentive, she says…surely it warranted more of a compliment than __**that**__."_

"_Oh, __**fine**__. It was wonderful…amazing. Exactly what I needed, up until he ruined it all with speaking. Is that what you wanted to hear?"_

"_It will have to do." Leliana was smiling rather suspiciously, for having all her romantic hopes for her friend dashed. "Perhaps I shall find out for myself, if __**you**__ don't mind."_

"_Not at all. Please. He deserves someone who can enjoy the…having of him."_

"You're really not helping, you know."

"I'm sorry-where were we? Oh, yes…Teagan…"

"_Stop_ that."

"Anders, you should see your _face_ right now! I had no idea you could imitate a petulant child so well!"

"Years of practice. Now- are you going to tell me what it is I _should_ do, or shall I just let you get back to the fantasy you were just living in?"

"You _should_ just tell her how you feel. It has been known to work in the past, for others."

"Oh? How many _others_ have done that with her?"

"I am referring to lovers in _general_, Anders. I do love a good romantic gesture but…I don't think you need to do that. It _is_ obvious that she cares for you, no? She did bring you here, after all. If you know Sibyl as I do, that speaks _volumes_."

This was quickly becoming a conversation she did _not_ want to hear, which was often the case when she was faced with things that were probably true. Like a coward, she slipped out of the library, leaving them to discuss the finer points of winning over a stubborn woman.


	6. Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer: Bioware owns it.**_

_**Authors Note: Um…short chapter is short. I'll make it up in the next one, though!**_

**Chapter 5**

"_Someone_ certainly took their time getting out of bed."

Sibylla did not bother turning around from her perch on the wooden fence. She simply snaked an arm behind her back and offered the approaching mage an extremely rude gesture, keeping her eyes fixed on her son as he sat astride Fergus's best horse while his Uncle led the led it lazily around the pen.

"My…you are quite the _spitfire_ when you're away from your duties. I'll make it a point to take you on more outings."

"As if this was all _your_ idea." She shifted her gaze towards Anders with a rueful smile as he leaned against the fence, letting his arms dangle carelessly off the edge.

"He's going to be a great father, that one." He nodded towards Fergus, who was obviously in his element, teaching his nephew to ride.

"He should be…Fergus was a father, a long time ago."

"Oh…I didn't-"

"No, it's alright. You meant well. His son, Oren…he would be ten this year."

"And this right here is why your secrecy is a _bad_ idea. I could have really put my foot in it, had I said that to your brother." His tone was light, but she knew it was no simple jovial comment.

"You're right. I will try to…do better in the future."

"We could make a game of it, perhaps? That way you don't have to tell me anything outright but if I guess correctly…"

"You get a cookie?"

"Sure…great. I was thinking more like 'strip cards' but I'll take a cookie, too."

"Shall we play a round now, then?"

"Very well, but I must warn you…I am _clever_ and I happen to know a few things already. Don't think I won't use them to my advantage to win."

"So you're a _cheater_?"

"And what ever made you think otherwise?"

"…touché."

"So!" He rubbed his hands together and shifted slightly to get a better look at her. "You are a Grey Warden."

"Really? _That's_ your advantage?" She tilted her head and quirked a brow. If that was the best he had…

"I had to start _somewhere_, didn't I?" He shifted his gaze to the side and concentrated before continuing with their game. "This one is my personal favorite rumor…stop me if you've heard it before: the mystery father is King Cailan."

She had, in fact, heard that rumor.

"Utterly untrue. And physically _impossible_, I might add. He died at _Ostagar_. They were born after the blight."

"Damn…I rather liked that one. It would explain why the Queen seems to hate you so much. Also…I know this sounds ridiculous, but Ellie _does_ look like him, from the portraits I've seen of the man."

She flinched momentarily at his observation, hopefully not long enough for him to notice the faltering of her expression.

"Next guess?"

"You bested the Hero of the River Dane in combat and executed him."

"The first part is true, but I didn't…do the deed."

"Oh? Who did?" Surprise was evident in his voice and, yet again, she found herself cursing the woman that wrote over the events of the blight with her own royally sanctioned version.

"_That_ would be telling. You're supposed to guess, remember?"

"Hm…I'll come back to that one because I haven't a clue."

"Fair enough, I suppose." She turned around and dropped down on his side of the fence. "One more for now, alright? We'd best prepare for Bann Teagan; he'll be here soon."

"Yes, I'd heard as much." Anders commented with no small amount of disdain.

"Well? What's your guess?"

"You had a torrid romance with Teagan."

"I don't know if I'd call it _torrid_…or a romance, really."

"I knew it! I knew it…I knew I hated him for a reason."

"It was just _once_! And I...it was...-oh _Maker_, why am I explaining myself to _you_?" She threw her arms up in frustration. Leave it to Anders to make _her_ feel vile for sleeping with someone.

"Because you feel _guilty_. But worry not, for I _forgive_ you. Besides…if it was just the once, it can't have been very good. And _that_ makes me smile."

"You're unbelievable."

"I really am, aren't I?"

"_Anders!_"

Ellie was running across the pen towards them, her arms outstretched in excitement. She hastily climbed up the fence but couldn't _quite_ hitch her leg over to climb down the other side. Anders reflexively picked her up and wrapped his arms around her in a great bear hug.

"Ow! You're _squishing_ me!" Her giggle betrayed her words, however, and she returned the embrace with fervor but only for a moment, having forgotten her ill regard for him earlier. She pulled away and gave him a brilliant smile. "You brought Mummy."

"Yes, _I_ did bring her. I think that deserves a reward, don't you?"

"_What_? You brought…that's just unfair."

"I told her I would." He shrugged with a roguish smile, shifting Ellie to his hip.

"I picked this for you, Mummy." Ellie leaned forward precariously and held out the rose that she'd been clutching. "Uncle cut the pricklies off." As soon as Sibylla accepted the flower, Ellie turned back to Anders. "Will you make butterflies?"

"_Butterflies_? You could have…a toad or-" Ellie made a face and shook her head vigorously. "No? How about kittens?"

"Noooo…butterflies!"

"Alright, then…butterflies it is!"

He knelt down and set her on her feet next to him. As he cupped his hands together, Ellie drew in a deep breath and held it, quivering in anticipation.

"Are you ready?"

"Ye-_es_!"

He slowly drew his hands apart, releasing a swarm of butterflies made of glittering light. They fluttered gracefully through the air as Ellie watched them with wide, awe-filled eyes. She burst into peals of laughter when one landed on her cheek.

"Aw…I want a dragon!" Duncan was climbing over the fence now, distressed by the fact that _he_ hadn't gotten a show yet.

"_No_! No dragons."

Sibylla's refusal came out much harsher than she intended and startled everyone out of their playful moods.

_She nearly jumped out of her skin as a strong pair of arms wrapped around her from out of nowhere, as if conjured by Wynne._

"_I'm sorry…mi amora, please…be able to forgive me for this someday."_

_Zevran._

"_Let __**go**__ of me!" she cried, bucking wildly as Alistair approached them, the dragon keening and writhing pitifully in the distance. She was so close…_

"_Sibyl, stop…stop. We don't have much time." _

"_I __**won't**__ stop! I won't let you do this!"_

_He edged closer and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers with a small smile. His hands gently grasped her hips to still her thrashing._

"_You say that like I'm giving you a choice." He raised his head and reached one gauntleted hand up to cup her cheek. "I don't expect you'll forgive __**me**__ for this…and I've made my peace with that. I love you too much to care if you're angry with me. Besides…it's only 30 years, give or take, before you can thoroughly berate me for having an assassin take you out of the game. That's not so long, is it?"_

"_Please…please don't do this." Her voice wavered as she choked back a sob, eyes nearly brimming over with tears._

"_I'm so sorry…if only I had-if I'd just gone to her…" He placed a soft kiss on her forehead as the tears finally spilled forth from her eyes. She closed them as he kissed his way down to her lips, murmuring "I'msorryi'msorryiloveyou…" like it was the Chant of Light. She recognized the hitch in his breath that meant he was near tears and pressed her lips to his with as much force as she could muster before she felt him pull away._

_Without another word, he pivoted on his heel and ran._

If she never saw another dragon, it would be too soon.


	7. Chapter 6

_**Disclaimer: Bioware owns it.**_

**Chapter 6**

It was strange to be on the other side of an arrival at Highever. She'd been either coming or going for years now…the last time she stood in this hall for an arrival, the guest was Arl _Howe_ and…no, she wouldn't think of it. Not now. The mood was tense enough after her outburst. Duncan was _still_ glowering as he stood next to her. Waiting next to all that hostility was going to kill her.

"I don't know how you stand the _waiting_, Fergus…he must be miles away yet."

"Has your hearing gone in your old age, sister? Those are _hooves_ on the stones, you old bat."

"If _I'm_ old, you must be _ancient_. Is that grey in your beard?"

"…you're leaving soon, right?"

"You know…I thought I might retire my command and come home. Doesn't that sound wonderful? Just think, we could-ow!"

Fergus's sharp elbow jabbed into her ribs just before Ser Gale escorted the Bann into the main hall. Teagan was chatting animatedly with the young knight, obviously a frequent visitor to Highever…there was an easy familiarity between the two men. Teagan's lips stretched into a wide smile when he saw Sibylla, though he did not break away from the conversation.

"-there's a fair amount of stags just on the outskirts of Highever. That's where I would go, Bann Teagan."

"Surely you'll be accompanying us, Ser Gale. I have no doubt that it will be a fruitful trip."

"Of course, my Lord." Ser Gale bowed to Fergus, then to Teagan before taking his leave.

"What a pleasant surprise to see _you_, my Lady. You're looking more beautiful than ever." He took her hands and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. She returned the gesture, flushing a light red at the compliment. Regardless of what had blossomed between them…or rather, _not_ blossomed between them, there was a place in her heart that warmed in his presence. There were still the odd moments that found her wondering _why not_ but knowing what she did of love and how it felt to _be_ loved…she couldn't bring herself to be so selfish. It would be one-sided and horribly unfair. Teagan deserved more than that.

"And Duncan! What has you so _upset_, lad?" Teagan inquired, releasing Sibylla's hands and crouching down to Duncan's level. Sibylla looked down to meet the stubborn gaze of her son, who remained silent.

"Oh, go on…you can tell him."

"Mum wouldn't let Anders make me a dragon but he made _Ellie_ butterflies. It's not _fair_." His answer came out in a rush of words, punctuated by a frustrated huff.

"Ah, but do you know _why_?"

"Because she's mean."

"May I show you something?" Teagan asked, with the utmost sincerity, as if this was all perfectly _reasonable_.

"I _guess_ so."

Teagan beckoned Sibylla to join them. She knelt down, eyeing him with curiosity. He took her hand and drew her arm further out while his other hand gently grasped the loose fabric of her sleeve. "Do you mind…? I apologize; I should have asked you first."

"No…it's alright."

Very carefully, he pulled her sleeve up and rolled it neatly over her shoulder to expose the angry looking scars all along her arm. Duncan tilted his head to get a better look, not quite understanding the correlation.

"Do you know how your mother got these?"

"No…"

"Your _brave_ mother fought a dragon once, before you were born. It gave her these."

"Mum, did you _really_?" Duncan asked, his surly expression morphing into one of awed disbelief.

"It's true…I did."

"Wow…" He reached out to touch the pale, raised scar tissue that marred her arm, following the various dips and rises of flesh in wonder. "Did you kill it, Mum?"

"I...er...it's dead."

"Do you see why she doesn't much care for dragons?" Teagan asked as he stood up, satisfied that he had remedied the situation.

"Uh-huh." Duncan nodded, regarding his mother with newfound hero worship at the revelation of her status as a mighty _dragon slayer_.

Teagan was entirely too good at diffusing angry children. _Why not_ indeed.

* * *

Someone was singing. The lyrical voice drew Sibylla further down a dark path, twisting and turning until the air became stale and heavy. The wet scent of earth was everywhere…an errant root caught in her hair as she pushed further on, unable to discern the words of the song she heard, but that voice…so melodic, she had to find the source. The simple tune reverberated in her mind, something so familiar, yet for the life of her, she couldn't place it. The path narrowed as a subtle orange glow came into view. Something small twisted around her ankles and darted forward, a streak of ginger all but disappearing into the soft illumination ahead. At the end of the path was the diminutive form of a girl standing on the edge of a great chasm, bathed in the orange glow of lava flow, a cat purring and rubbing against her legs. Golden hair tumbled down the length of her back as her strange and mournful voice echoed in the empty space around them. The words were unintelligible…a language Sibylla didn't recognize. They felt heavy…ancient. Powerful.

"Ellie?"

Sibylla's daughter turned at the sound of her mother's voice and smiled softly as she continued to hum the melody. Ser Pounce a Lot crouched down beside her and fixed Sibylla with a curious stare, tail swishing back and forth lazily across the stones beneath him.

"They aren't what they seem."

Sibylla instinctively reached for the hand she knew she would find, her fingers grazing a warm and calloused palm before twining with Alistair's. He smiled down at her before leading her towards the edge of the chasm. They stopped next to Ellie, who rested her head against his thigh as if she'd done it a thousand times before…as if she knew who he was.

"Look."

The bottom of the rift was teeming with darkspawn. Thousands of miniscule forms scurried about, a veritable horde that should not have grown so large so quickly.

"No…"

"Six years is a long time, Sibyl. Long enough to rebuild."

"No one has seen an archdemon yet. There's still time…they won't rise without a leader."

"No one knows what to look for. Not even you." His grip on her hand tightened as his voice grew more urgent. "Look closer. _They're not what they seem_."

"Who are _they_?"

The solid feel of him was fading fast…she was on the brink of consciousness and desperately fighting it. The faint ghost of his voice reached her before her eyes flew open.

"You'll find out soon."

* * *

Her head was mired in confusion as she travelled down the worn stone path. Morning had not arrived yet and as she passed by the dying torches, she could think of only one person to make sense of all this. Leliana was no stranger to meaningful dreams and visions…something similar had led her into Sibylla's path long ago, hadn't it?

She moved silently through the small chapel towards the door of Leliana's quarters. The sound of rustling sheets wafted through the cracked-open door, followed by a breathy sigh that sounded vaguely like…contentment. The kind of sound one made after a very fulfilling evening. Her inquiry could definitely wait until morning.

Sibylla pivoted on her heel and inched back towards the chapel, wincing at every scrape of her boot against the stone floor.

"I was wondering when you might come to see me," came the whisper of Leliana's sleepy voice from behind her.

"I was _hoping_ to get away without waking you up." Sibylla turned to look at her friend, lips quirked in amusement at her rumpled form wrapped in an equally rumpled blanket.

"Give me a moment to get presentable?"

"Of course. I hope I didn't interrupt anything…"

"Nothing that can't be continued later," she replied with an impish smile before disappearing behind the door. Leliana reemerged a few moments later clad in a loose fitting dressing gown and robe, smoothing her rumpled hair.

"It's a lovely time for a walk, don't you think?"

"Afraid I might see your bedpartner?"

"Not at _all_. I'm afraid he'll see _you_."

"And now you've hurt my feelings! Am I such an embarrassment to you?"

Leliana chuckled at that and looped her arm in Sibylla's as they exited the chapel. The brisk night air met them at the door, drawing a small shiver from both women.

"You're leaving soon, aren't you?"

"How did you know?"

"If what your brother says is true, you have quite the dangerous journey ahead of you. Again."

"Care to join me?"

"If the Maker wills it…but I see no reason why he would not."

"Leliana this is going to sound strange but…your vision, the one that led you to us before?"

"_Oui_?"

"How did you know it was real?"

"I _believed_. It's simple enough…I saw the darkness rising and chose to act. People speak of premonition…of destiny like it's unavoidable and in a sense, it is. You can't avoid what's to come. The Maker showed me the way but it was up to me to believe it and act. Why? Has he shown you things?"

"I don't know. I saw…they've grown in numbers with no one the wiser but it wasn't just the darkspawn. I saw…this is going to sound crazy. Maybe I _am_ crazy."

"Of _that_, I have no doubt. Perhaps we all are."

"That's very reassuring."

Leliana led them towards the stables and paused at the fence, lifting her gaze to the stars still bright in the night sky.

"I envy you…growing up in a place like this."

"And I you, for being able to enjoy it. Highever has lost…much. It's difficult to be here."

"Have you ever thought about dwelling on what _is_, rather than what is not? You miss so much…things that are right in front of you. I'm not talking about _forgetting_ what was…perhaps just trying to embrace what _is_."

"Did you come up with that on your own?"

"It's very sage advice, isn't it?"

Sibylla nodded in agreement and sank down to the ground, leaning her back against the fence for support.

"I saw Alistair. Not…not as in I _really_ saw him, because that's impossible."

"And you're wondering if it was dream or vision."

"Yes. He showed me the horde, buried within the Deep Roads. He said that things weren't what they appeared."

"And do you believe him?"

"I don't know. I dream of him often…_very_ often and it's always vivid but there's never been a _message_ to it before. I don't know what to think."

"Look closer, then…perhaps there's something more that you've missed?"

"There was nothing…just the horde. And…Ser Pounce. There was something else but…I can't remember it."

"Ser Pounce…the cat?"

"I told you! It doesn't make any sense at all, does it?"

"None whatsoever! My poor friend…mad as a hatter, you are." Leliana reached out and drew Sibylla back up. "If that isn't my sign to go with you, I'm not sure what is. And perhaps…perhaps I miss the danger of it all."

"And what of your man?"

"He will understand. It's one of his most admirable qualities, after all."

"Oh? Anyone I know?"

"_Oui_."

"But…you're not going to tell me, are you?"

"_Non_."

"You're a bad friend."

"And yet, you love me."

"…true." Sibylla replied, clasping Leliana's hand tightly. "I'm not sure what I would do without you."

"Lucky for you, you won't have to find out! Come…we should rest awhile longer. It would be best if we depart tomorrow and put this intrigue to bed once and for all."

* * *

Morning came too quickly and, as Sibylla watched the two sleeping forms on the bed, she knew that leaving was going to be difficult. The prospect of leaving without saying goodbye crossed her mind more than once and though it would be less directly painful…no. She couldn't do that; not when lives were at stake and she might never return. For all of Anders' lighthearted confidence in their success, this was a _grave_ situation…no amount of smiling denial could convince her otherwise and he hadn't seen…didn't know what they would face. It was easy to march to the executioner when you didn't see the gallows waiting for you.

A light rapping on the door brought her attention firmly back to here and now.

"I'll just be a moment!"

"Take your time, sister. The horses are waiting…whenever you're ready."

"Mum?" asked the sleepy voice of Duncan as he rolled over to look at her with bleary eyes.

"Good morning, my love."

She reached down to brush a stubborn lock of hair away from his eyes, faltering as he jerked away. "What's wrong?"

"You're _leaving_ again."

"Not because I _want_ to! Please… I want to stay. More than anything, I want to stay…" Her face fell at the angry disposition of her son…she should have known that this was not going to be easy.

"I don't want you to go away again!"

Ellie startled awake at the sound of raised voices, looking from her mother to Duncan frantically to discern the cause of Duncan's shouting.

"She's _leaving_," he all but wailed, throwing the covers back and scrambling out of bed.

"It's okay, Duncan…Mummy will come back." Ellie stated, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with a yawn.

"How do _you_ know?"

She fixed her brother with a surprisingly steely gaze then, commanding his attention in a way she never had before.

"Because I _know_."

Sibylla was hard-pressed not to believe it, herself.

Duncan, placated for now by his sister's certainty, burrowed his way into an embrace and Ellie followed suit.

"I love you both…more than _anything_." She placed a kiss on each forehead before extricating herself from their grasp and stood on shaky feet. "I'll be back soon…so soon, you won't even know I've gone."

It was a flimsy promise of the worst kind, but one she hoped she would be able to keep.

Anders and Leliana waited in the main hall, chatting with Fergus and his hunting party who were also ready to depart.

"You have nothing to worry about, Sibyl…they'll be safe here. My husband is leaving a very _large_ contingent of soldiers with us." Marian offered with a pat to Sibylla's arm. The gesture was not lost on her…not considering the history of the place. "I am not altogether unskilled either…just let _anyone_ try to make it past my arrows."

The thought of such a heavily pregnant woman bringing down any force made her smile…but she didn't doubt it for a moment. Nothing would harm this woman, her unborn child, or her niece and nephew and Maker help anyone who tried to.

"I have no doubt of that, fierce little woman that you are. I thank the Maker every day that my brother was able to win you…though perhaps _you_ could have done better."

"Not likely! Do you know how difficult it is to find a man who _appreciates_ a woman more skilled with a bow than he?"

"You notice that I'm unmarried, right? I have an inkling."

"Nonsense. I know _several _men who more than appreciate that fact about you."

"You have me there…_I'm_ the choosy one. It's true." She held up her hands in defeat, thankful for the easy banter on such a tense morning.

"All in good time, I'm sure." Marian clasped her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Be safe, sister. Come back to us."

"Take care of that incorrigible old man…and my niece. Tell her every day that her Aunt is thinking of her."

"Or nephew." Marian reminded her, releasing her hand with a small smile. "We'll know soon."

"I'm not one for long goodbyes so…goodbye. Be well." Fergus piped up from behind them, wrapping an arm around Sibylla to give her a quick squeeze before joining his wife.

"Fergus! That's hardly polite." Marian shook her head, lifting her hands as if to ask the Maker's forgiveness for her husband's terrible manners.

"This stubborn old goat wouldn't know the first thing about staying gone, trust me. I've been trying to get rid of her for years."

"Oh, Fergus….I'll miss _you_ most of all."

"I know, Pup. You can't help it." He shifted closer to Marian and wrapped his arm around her shoulders with an easy smile. "Off you go, then."

As Sibylla turned to find her companions among the group, she spied Leliana near Teagan and could not help but notice her friend's fingers slipping from his grasp, a wistful look upon her face. Now _that_ was an interesting development.

"Understanding, is he?" she whispered under her breath as Leliana found her.

"Shush, you."

To her surprise, not one flare of jealousy surfaced at the revelation; regret that two good people were about to be separated, perhaps…but not jealousy.

"If you ladies are quite done gossiping…I'd prefer to get the horse riding over with. If you don't mind."

"He's a fun one to travel with, isn't he?" Leliana quipped, inclining her head towards Anders.

"You have no idea."


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Bioware owns it.**

**Authors Note: Edited because it's "Ser" not "Sir"...oy. I've been away from DA too long!  
**

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 7**

"I think my arse is actually _numb_."

"I wouldn't worry, Anders…surely there will be a lady to rub some feeling back into it when we reach the Keep."

"I see two ladies in front of me at this very moment. Why wait?"

"Because we'll be there within the hour and I like to see you squirm?"

His commander's reply elicited a disappointed frown but really, when had it garnered a different response?

"You're no fun at all, _Commander_. All work and no play."

"Oh, don't be fooled by her. She's playing with you right now. You only need to become familiar with the game."

Leliana turned from her perch astride the borrowed steed and gave him a knowing grin as the scenery passed by. They rode at a brisk pace and would undoubtedly be home soon, lamentable as the thought was to Anders. Once they reached the Keep, it was back to formalities and the business at hand which would be bloody, ugly, and dangerous. Still…it was preferable to captivity within the Circle, so he wouldn't complain. Much.

"Are you giving away my secrets, Leli? That's unsporting."

"If I didn't, nothing would ever come of it!"

"_What are you doing? You can't just…why would tell him that?"_

"_We are __**all**__ tired of waiting for the inevitable, Sibyl."_

"_And now you will wait forever. I'm never speaking to him again, so thanks for that."_

"_Hey! I'm standing right here!"_

"_Oh, I didn't mean it! Alistair, wait! She just ruins—hey! Put me __**down**__!"_

"True…"

* * *

_**2 Days Previous**_

"When was the last time you slept, Howe? We haven't seen darkspawn in _days_…"

"In peace, _vigilance_. Have you learned nothing?"

"All I've learned travelling with you is how to be _tired_."

Nathaniel shifted his gaze to his companion, Ioan, as he settled into his bedroll by the fire while Siobhan busied herself with skinning the rabbits that would be stew come tomorrow night. The two Wardens he traveled with were still relatively new to the Order and, for lack of a better opportunity to expose them, Sibyl had ordered them to accompany the scouting mission that Nathaniel led. It was necessary- he knew this, but solitude sometimes sounded like a welcome friend after two months of their constant back and forth bickering.

"You know something, Ioan? You're absolutely right. I am feeling…tired. You'll take watch tonight while Siobhan and I get some rest."

"But…I just got…"

"Less whining. More watching."

Nathaniel drew his hood up and settled back against his pack as the young mage groused and struggled out of his bedroll.

"He's going to fall asleep, you know." Siobhan muttered, watching Ioan stalk to the edge of their small camp with narrowed eyes.

"You want to keep him company?"

Siobhan's violet gaze widened in surprise at the lack of solidarity she found in Nathaniel. She could not see his expression for the cloak shielding his face but the irritated timbre of his voice was warning enough to drop it.

"No…I just-"she began, searching for those elusive words that would get her back in his good graces.

"Sleep, Siobhan. We need to be up and moving before the sun rises."

When Nathaniel woke hours later, Siobhan's slight form was curled against him, shivering beneath the fur that she'd pulled across them. The pointed tip of her ear poked out from the tangle of red hair on her head and Nathaniel reflexively reached up to warm it. She stirred and edged closer to him to draw from his body heat.

Nathaniel was far from the reaches of the Fade now, and focused his gaze on the dying fire. The forest was quiet, save for the rustling of leaves from a cold breeze. He needed no sound to alert him to the presence upon them now- the feeling, like pins and needles in his head and creeping along his skin, was announcement enough. Ioan must have felt it too, for he sprinted towards Nathaniel and Siobhan in a panic.

"Get into the forest!" Nathaniel ordered, slinging his quiver of arrows over his shoulder and snatching up his bow.

Siobhan was on her feet in an instant and ran after Ioan while Nathaniel trailed behind them but before she reached the cover of darkness within the woods, she spun on her heel and ran back towards the campsite in a wide eyed frenzy.

"What are you _doing_?"

"My sword!"

"Leave it! Siobhan, _leave it!_"

His order was ignored and she sprinted back towards the fire. Her sword gleamed by the glowing embers and she nearly reached it before a swarm of darkspawn rose from the earth, obscuring her from Nathaniel's view.

"Maker _damn_ you! Ioan! Take them down!"

Nathaniel fired a series of arrows at the darkspawn around Siobhan as Ioan let loose a burst of concussive force that felled a handful of the creatures. Siobhan was in view now, held up by the neck in the grasp of a towering figure wearing a gruesome bloodstained patchwork of armor pieces, the face hidden inside a rusted, beaten helm. Nathaniel and Ioan were powerless to rush in and rescue her as genlock archers focused their fire on the two Grey Wardens, forcing them back into the trees to find cover. A burst of fire shot from Ioan's hands, illuminating the scene where camp had been and Nathaniel was horrified to discover the massive number of darkspawn _still_ rising. This was no small raiding party.

A high pitched keening shattered the relative quiet of the encounter. Nathaniel strung another arrow through his bow and leaned away from the tree he hid behind. The darkspawn were fanning out now…it would not be long until they were found.

"Ioan…run. I'll be right behind you."

"But—Siobhan, she's still-"

"Go!"

* * *

"Commander, may I speak with you?"

"Of course, Captain. Come in."

Sibylla prepared for whatever new nuisance Garavel was about to present with gritted teeth. It was no secret that the two were not overly fond of each other, but the man had proven useful more than once. Had it not been for the intelligence gathered by Garavel and his men, the clandestine plan of Amaranthine nobles may have succeeded in taking her life all those years ago.

"I think it would be wise to allow me to accompany the Wardens with my men. When you depart for the Deep Roads, that is."

"Garavel, I can understand that you want to be of…use, but I need your forces here."

"The Seneschal is more than capable of defending the Vigil."

She sighed and clasped her hands together, willing herself to be patient. The military forces at Vigil's Keep had a tendency to go stir-crazy and _any_ excuse to ride off was a welcome one, in their eyes. Garavel was no different. However much she would like to agree to this, the Deep Roads was no place for untainted men, for they would not remain that way long.

"Captain, I can't allow it. Where we're going, your men would be a liability to our safety and the scouting mission. I'm sorry."

She genuinely _was_ sorry. The added protection of a military squad would have been welcome in any other place and warriors without a war were sad creatures indeed.

A curt nod was all she received by way of reply before she was alone again in her quarters. The Wardens would be dining soon; she would have to address them then.

_Mrawr?_

"Pounce! Anders has been looking for you…"

The ginger cat rubbed against her legs, purring in sporadic intervals. She reached down to scratch behind his ears and rolled her eyes, knowing that he wouldn't desist until she paid him proper attention.

"This doesn't mean that I like you. You're no Finnick." she reminded him, straightening back up. Pounce narrowed his eyes and growled in response before darting away from her offensive presence. His quick exit brought her confusing dream to mind again and she half expected the hall to be bathed in a dull orange glow as she left the privacy of her quarters and wound her way down the staircase.

The boisterous talk and laughter was in full force again tonight and some small part of her was glad to be back in the thick of it. Vigil's Keep, with its oddball assortment of inhabitants, was home and she had missed it.

"Commander'll prove me right!" Oghren cried from his table, having spotted her in the midst of whatever tall tale he was telling now. "Tell 'em, Sibyl. Tell 'em what I did to Branka."

She gave the group a very serious look and drew her finger across her throat, pantomiming what he'd actually done to his wife. A much deserved fate, considering the harm that woman had done.

"Oghren? No…he doesn't have the stones!"

"He does if you're his wife." She pulled up a chair and plunked herself down between Oghren and Neria. "In his defense, she had it coming. My only regret is that he got to her first."

"I take it you'd have done worse?" Neria piped up, intrigued by this rare moment of candor.

"_Much_ worse."

"No love lost 'tween those two. Branka…she went too far. Killed her whole house, or might as well have. Some of 'em would have been better off dead." Oghren noted, pushing the last of his dinner away and reaching for his ale. "I thought fer sure that the Commander was just a soft nug shit 'til she took on Branka."

"And what _was_ our Commander like back then?"

Oghren shifted his gaze to Sibylla, who leaned back with her hands held up in acquiescence.

"A hard-ass. Just like she is now."

"Bollocks! She said you can tell us, didn't she?"

"Alright…she was green. Couldn't fight her way out of a wet burlap sack. Better?"

"Thanks, Oghren. You really do me justice."

"I ain't getting' myself into trouble 'cause Neria want a story. _You_ tell her."

"I _will_." She angled herself towards Neria, trying to think of the most…appropriate description of her younger years. "I was young. Stupid. Brash. Horrible temper, too. Oghren here was scared to death of me. Nothing like the calm collected person before you now."

"Calm, she says…huh. Just how many spats you gotten into with Nathaniel in the last year?"

"Not that many!" she cried out in defense.

"Last few months don't count. He ain't been here."

"So we've had some…disagreements. So what?"

"So nothin'. I'm just sayin' you ain't the picture of calm you think you are."

"You might be right." She shot back, narrowing her eyes in a rare display of petulance. "I'm going to find _Leliana_. She's much better company than you are."

"Tell that little songbird to bring me some of that Orlesian fancy drink, would ya? Been awhile since I've had it."

"Your wish is my command. Don't have too much though…remember what happened last time? I have no desire to see your backside hanging in the breeze again."

"Now _that_'s a story!"

Before she was forced to relive all the gory details, Sibylla exited her seat and walked briskly to the larder. She'd seen pears earlier and thought she might save one from becoming a pastry before addressing the room full of Wardens.

"If I was a pear…where would I…aha!"

As luck would have it, the larder was bereft of staff and the coveted pears were out in the open. With a victorious smile, she palmed one and hopped up onto the heavy wooden preparation table. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation; the first bite did not disappoint. She groaned in delight at the sweet taste of it and nearly jumped out of her skin when someone behind her cleared their throat.

"That's a new sound for you. I like it."

She turned slowly to find Anders leaning casually against the cellar doorway, his lips quirked into a rakish smile.

"Been busy down there, have you?"

"Not terribly. I found Ser Pounce-a-lot chasing mice so my concern can now be put to rest."

"I'm sure that's all you were doing."

"You don't believe me? I'm hurt, Sibyl. Crushed."

His hand covered his heart in mock dismay as the cat in question pranced through the doorway.

"I stand corrected."

"I believe you sit corrected, actually. Enjoying that pear?"

"You could say that, yes."

"Well don't mind _me_…keep going. I could stand to hear that little groany noise again."

He sauntered towards her, prepared to brush off the inevitable scolding of his flirtatious antics with his usual nonchalance.

"You don't give up, do you?"

"Have I ever?"

"No." she admitted thoughtfully, raising her pear for another bite. She could not help but test this situation…her eyes focused on his as she bit into the fruit, raising an eyebrow and daring him to take it further. She groaned again, theatrically this time.

"You did that on _purpose_. You're an evil thing."

Juice dribbled down her chin as she laughed, which only made her laugh harder. So much for the seductress act…it was quite difficult to feel desirable with pear juice on her face. Anders reached out reflexively and cupped her jawline, brushing the pad of his thumb across her chin to wipe the juice away.

It shouldn't have mattered. It was a small gesture…meaningless, really. It wasn't as though he'd never touched her before. So why did the air practically crackle out loud with electricity? Why was she suddenly hyper-aware of how _warm_ he was?

And _why_, of all bloody moments, was there shouting and uproar in the dining hall outside?

"Commander!"

She was on her feet and running in the blink of an eye, somewhere between anger and relief as she rushed to answer the call of her men. Limping in under the support of Varel was Nathaniel, bloodied and beaten. Ioan was close behind, not looking much better. Siobhan was not with them.

"Nat! Maker's breath, what happened?"

She squeezed in between Varel and Nathaniel, taking the weight off the Seneschal and guiding Nathaniel to their makeshift clinic with Ioan trailing behind them, all but wringing his hands in guilt.

"It's my fault…all my fault. I can't…I couldn't heal him. Never could heal anyone."

"Just get Anders. He was by the larder. Do it now!"

"She's gone…she's gone, Sibyl. They took her."

His head hung forward, the dark hair that he usually kept braided back obscuring his face. Surely if he could still speak…could make it home, he wasn't beyond help.

"Who? Siobhan? Who took her?"

"She's gone…the darkspawn…underground. I couldn't stop it."

"Not…alive. Tell me she wasn't taken alive."

"I _can't_."

Sibylla pushed the horrific image of it out of her mind and laid Nathaniel onto the sickbed as gently as she could. There was nothing to do but focus now…Siobhan was beyond rescue. Nathaniel was not. Judging from the heat of his fevered skin against her palm, that window of opportunity would be closing soon.


End file.
